I Want to Become a Chef
Every since I was a kid I wanted to be a chef. I used to think that working in restaurants would open up a lot of doors for me, especially since I went to culinary school (okay, so it was at a technical school, but it was still a culinary program.) For several years I followed that dream, but then I realized it's a lot tougher to become a chef than I had imagined. And so I ended up settling for restaurant manager. At least for now.
I still love cooking (and eating) and have spent many a free afternoon experimenting in my home kitchen with new recipes or trying new twists on old favorites.
I have been teaching my girlfriend wendy how to cook recently. Before she moved in with me a few weeks ago, she lived off of Lean Cuisine-type TV dinners, pre-made salads, sandwiches, and canned soups. It shows, too. She is very thin and eats like a bird.
She seems to really enjoy baking because the directions are clear and straightforward. More general cooking intimidates her a bit though because the way I do it I don't usually follow a recipe. I just taste what I am making from time to time and decide what and how much to add from there. When I make something I can't taste (like a meatloaf,) I go by "muscle memory" or eyeball the ingredients as I add them. That makes wendy nervous that she won't season the food right and that it won't turn out to my liking because everyone's taste is different. While that is true to some extent, I think she overreacts a bit because in general most people can agree on what is good, and so I have reassured her to that end.
We made a pizza together on Sunday. I had her make the crust while I made the sauce. She seemed to be really getting into the prepwork and enjoyed using my "fancy" mixer (I splurged a few years ago and bought myself a Kitchenaid. I *highly* recommend.) But once the pizza was in the oven, she kept wanting to get up from where we were cuddling on the couch so she could check on the pizza to make sure the crust was rising. She was worried she might have messed up and that the crust wouldn't turn out right. After she got up for the third time in less than twenty minutes and then wanted to get up *again,* I just held onto her and said, "No, Honey. You don't need to keep checking on that pizza. It will be fine, I promise you. But if you keep opening the oven to look at it, you will let the heat out and the temperature will drop, so that is actually more likely to cause the crust to not rise properly. Just sit down here and relax. It'll turn out great, you'll see."
Of course it did! In fact, is was awesome. I always like to make a supreme pizza with everything on it (well, not anchovies. Those things are disgusting!) Bur I left off the sausage from half of that pizza because wendy doesn't like it too much.
I still love cooking (and eating) and have spent many a free afternoon experimenting in my home kitchen with new recipes or trying new twists on old favorites.
I have been teaching my girlfriend wendy how to cook recently. Before she moved in with me a few weeks ago, she lived off of Lean Cuisine-type TV dinners, pre-made salads, sandwiches, and canned soups. It shows, too. She is very thin and eats like a bird.
She seems to really enjoy baking because the directions are clear and straightforward. More general cooking intimidates her a bit though because the way I do it I don't usually follow a recipe. I just taste what I am making from time to time and decide what and how much to add from there. When I make something I can't taste (like a meatloaf,) I go by "muscle memory" or eyeball the ingredients as I add them. That makes wendy nervous that she won't season the food right and that it won't turn out to my liking because everyone's taste is different. While that is true to some extent, I think she overreacts a bit because in general most people can agree on what is good, and so I have reassured her to that end.
We made a pizza together on Sunday. I had her make the crust while I made the sauce. She seemed to be really getting into the prepwork and enjoyed using my "fancy" mixer (I splurged a few years ago and bought myself a Kitchenaid. I *highly* recommend.) But once the pizza was in the oven, she kept wanting to get up from where we were cuddling on the couch so she could check on the pizza to make sure the crust was rising. She was worried she might have messed up and that the crust wouldn't turn out right. After she got up for the third time in less than twenty minutes and then wanted to get up *again,* I just held onto her and said, "No, Honey. You don't need to keep checking on that pizza. It will be fine, I promise you. But if you keep opening the oven to look at it, you will let the heat out and the temperature will drop, so that is actually more likely to cause the crust to not rise properly. Just sit down here and relax. It'll turn out great, you'll see."
Of course it did! In fact, is was awesome. I always like to make a supreme pizza with everything on it (well, not anchovies. Those things are disgusting!) Bur I left off the sausage from half of that pizza because wendy doesn't like it too much.
41-45, M